


“Did you ever read Complacency of the Learned?”

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:23:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rose realizes something important about her mother</p>
            </blockquote>





	“Did you ever read Complacency of the Learned?”

You never expected your mom to be so happy to see you. Part of you thought she might be cold and distant toward you. She might have resented her guardian for not being there as you resented yours for…well, everything she did. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. You didn’t have to try all that hard to strike up a conversation.

As Roxy mixes you both some virgin margaritas, the subject of alcohol finally brings you to the subject of your mothers. You learn that her mother (who you can’t help but think of as yourself) left her all alone with a lifetime supply of hard liquor. Roxy sets a glass in front of you, but before you pick it up you ask “Did you ever find out much about her?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t that hard. She was pretty famous,” she says as she sits across from you. She takes a sip from her drink, and you unconsciously imitate her as you wait for her to continue. You don’t have to say anything before she launches into the story of her mother. Either she likes to talk a lot, or she’s starting to pick up on your subtle cues and hints, or perhaps some combination of both.

Roxy told you the story of the fight against the Condesce, by which you were duly impressed, before allowing you to ask questions to fill in the minor details. “How did you find her?” “How did you know she prepared your home for you?” “Did you ever see pictures of her?”

“Did you ever read Complacency of the Learned?”

“Of course I did! They’re classics.” Her enthusiasm leads you to wonder if her margarita isn’t so virgin or if it’s simply very sugary. You sip yours, but it’s so sour that you doubt Roxy is on a sugar high. The more she goes on about Complacency of the Learned, the faster she talks. “There are six volumes, and they’re huge. They were pretty hard for me to read at first, to be honest, but they were just so good. I named my cat after Frigglish, you know.”

You raise your eyebrows at that. You’re not sure if your version of the story that you’d started would have ended up being quite so long. Then again, your version wasn’t satirical either. “And what was the story about?” you ask, as you begin to wonder if the stories were more different than you originally thought. Your version was about wizards, after all, and you’re sure your mother loved science too much to even entertain the notion of magic.

The look on Roxy’s face makes it perfectly clear that she legitimately loved those books. Even though you didn’t technically write them, you still can’t help but feel a little proud. “Well, there’s this group of twelve wizards. But then there’s Calmasis, who is trying to kill them all. Explaining much more would get real complicated real fast.”

She drinks again, and you nod as you accept this information. “So, it’s not too much different from my version, then.” But that can’t be right, if she liked it enough to name her cat Frigglish of all things. Maybe there isn’t much magic in the story? You don’t realize you’ve said any of this out loud until you look back at Roxy. She’s set her glass down again and perked up.

Her excitement only confuses you even more at first, but you realize what’s going on quickly. “You’ve started writing it?” she asks, and you feel like she must be patronizing you. Of course she doesn’t like wizards. She’s making fun of you again. She probably just named her cat Frigglish to emphasize that it sounds more like a pet’s name than a human’s.

“Yes, but I’ve lost all my progress,” you say, a little more coldly than you mean to. Roxy certainly looks disappointed, and a little affronted. You sigh, finish your drink, and remember that you wanted to try to get along with her this time. You add, more kindly, “I had to burn my first notebook because of game shenanigans, and the second notebook was on the meteor.”

She nods and kicks back the rest of her glass. “So, do you want to see how it turned out?” At first you don’t know what she means, so she clarifies for you. “I have the books upstairs, you can read them if you want.”

“Oh, sure,” you find yourself saying before you really think about it. How long is it going to take you to read six books, especially if they’re huge as Roxy says?

Still, you don’t have much better to do for now, so you follow her out of the kitchen. You know the house well enough that you almost don’t have to look to know where you’re going, but the décor is all wrong. There’s no bronzed vacuum cleaner or ironic wizard statues. Instead, Roxy has a bunch of high-tech looking things you’ve never seen before.

But entering Roxy’s room is what finally makes you freeze at the door way. Her room is almost the same as yours. She has the same furniture, same layout, even a nearly identical mess. Of course she also has electronic windows and other things you’ve never seen.

You step inside and turn on the spot to examine the room as she searches through books stacked in the corner. You don’t see much décor besides the windows where you hung posters. Curious, you check the back of her door.

Sure enough, there’s a poster there. But it’s a Complacency of the Learned poster, and you definitely didn’t expect that. It throws you for a loop again. If she was patronizing you, she wouldn’t have this poster up in her own space. Something about this doesn’t seem like your mom’s usual kind of passive-aggressive taunting either.

Roxy appears at your side with her arms full of novels. She was right about how large they are. They look like textbooks to you. “That’s the cover of the last volume,” she says, looking at the poster and adopting the same tone she had when explaining the story. “It’s definitely my favorite.”

You take the books from her with a thankful smile. As you get a chance to look at them more closely, you see that they’re a bit worn, and not just from four hundred years of lying there. The spines don’t even look dusty.

“You’ve read these a lot, haven’t you?” You adjust the books slightly so that they’re easier to hold.

“Yep. They’re my favorite books of all time, I’m serious. Those books got me into wizards in the first place.” She stands still for a moment, thinking, before crossing over to the bed. She sits on it and tosses a notebook to the floor to allow you to follow. You do so meekly, thinking about what she said. You set the books down next to you and notice that one still has a bookmark in it. The more you see, the more you doubt that she’s being patronizing or sarcastic or passive-aggressive or anything but sincere.

You remember something you said to John years ago, about his father trying to bond with him by sharing his interests. You remember what Dave said to you, that maybe your mother legitimately loved wizards as much as you do.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. You clear your throat and speak up. “You really do love wizards don’t you?”

She nods, apparently aware that this is more important to you than it should be. You nod as well, for lack of words, and look down at your feet. After another long pause, you say again, “I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t know what you’re apologizing for. There’s no way she could know how you spent thirteen years completely misinterpreting everything your mother did for you. You’re so stupid, honestly. If you had seen this before, maybe you wouldn’t have fought with her.

The more you think about it, the more you want to cry. Roxy seems to understand as she places a hand on your shoulder and says, “Don’t be sorry.”


End file.
